Under Rug Swept
by AlyceJL
Summary: She told him she needed 'space', and he struggles to give it to her. "You’re not ordinary, you know. You never are. Not to me." - RLHG, WIP.
1. 01

_Under Rug Swept_

1.

Your hair is bunched back today. I suppose you must think that it makes you look ordinary, or less beautiful, especially with ink smudges on your face after you've wiped stray pieces of hair from your face.

You're not ordinary, you know. You never are. Not to me.

I wish I could tell you this. I wish I could wipe away those ink smudges while you're in the bathtub. I dream about that at night, sometimes. My fingers itch to touch you, to run through your hair or even just to rest briefly on your shoulder as I pass you.

You laugh at something Ginny says, your eyes closing to slits and your face coming to rest against your hand, quill dangling loosely between fingertips. I swallow thickly, and make myself look away. My hands tremble as I reach for the teacup by my side, and I take a long gasp of the hot liquid so the pain in my mouth and throat distracts me. I cannot stop myself from thinking about you.

I feel old without you. When we were together you made me feel young and alive. You always knew how to be young, even though you were so grown-up while you were asking Albus if you might sit in on an Order meeting, or when you were reviewing the latest book on dragon behaviour.

I remember that night. The heavy book lay on your lap and your finger followed the line of the passage you were reading to me. The sheets of my bed twisted around your legs, and my fingers twisted through your hair. You were so perfect, in moments like that when we were both winding down from the thrill of sharing our bodies and reveling in amazement of one another.

"Are you listening?" You asked me with a smile, swatting my hand away from your neck, where I had been holding a lock of hair and tickling your ear with it.

"Yes," I answered, and reached over your body to flip the pages of the book to the chapter on dragon mating habits. "I find it particularly interesting that the male Chinese Fireball will capture his female by biting her neck, and will hold on for the duration of their mating." I scraped my teeth over the expanse of skin where neck joined shoulder on your body, not exactly biting, and making you shudder.

"And you call yourself a scholar?" You had quipped at me, teasing and fighting back a devious smile. "You're just like any other man; only interested in how the sex works." I laughed then, sliding my hand from the pages of the book to curl my arm around your waist. The smile on your face broke out and you leaned down to kiss me.

That was when you were at Hogwarts, and had a curfew to keep. You were never able to linger in my bed until the morning. You would sneak away from my rooms when the prefects had returned to their house dormitories and go to your own private Head Girl chambers.

Those days are gone, now that you've graduated and are working at the Ministry, gone since you told me you needed space to finish your school career and begin your working one. I didn't understand fully what you wanted then, but I do now; it is finished. I wake up in the night without you beside me, I let no indication of any feelings that may be, and were between us, slip. I leave you alone.

You've abandoned your Ministry work now, and are instead explaining something about Advanced Potions to Ginny. I want to sweep you up in my arms and take you upstairs to my bed, but instead I take my tea, the cup shaking against the saucer in my hands, and leave the study to be away from you.


	2. 02

_Under Rug Swept_

2.

Meals are hardest at Order headquarters.

I can't help watching you and the way you sip at your drink, or the way your little hands tear up pieces of bread to dunk into your soup. I spend the entire meal stealing glances at you between mouthfuls, hoping you'll ask me to pass the potatoes. Afterwards you go into the parlour to sit by the fire with your friends, each carrying a big mug of hot chocolate.

We used to do that together, you and I.

You leave me no room now. We can still be friends, you told me, but now you see the hurt and longing in my eyes and you avoid me. We'll still do things – we'll work together, you told me, but I saw you, the night you spoke to Albus on the quiet. I can only assume you begged him not to assign us to work together.

I suppose you think I cannot maintain a strictly professional relationship with you. I do like to think that, at Hogwarts, we had a time for work and a time for play. I would not treat you as anything more than my student and my assistant while in class. It would not be until all the students had left, the door closed behind them, that I would push you against my desk and kiss you and inch my fingers under your shirt.

Ginny found us like that, one day. I still maintain that she left her Defence book behind on purpose.

"Excuse me, Professor, is Hermi – oh. Er… so sorry. I'm interrupting something."

You tugged your blouse straight, cheeks red. "No, Ginny, it's fine. What's the matter? I have your book here, you forgot it."

"Yes," Ginny said, staring at me. I rubbed my forehead to hide my face, sure the whole of Gryffindor house would know of my relationship by dinnertime. Bedtime would see the entire school notified. A late night meeting over tea and biscuits with Albus would have to be allowed for.

"I just wanted to see if you were coming along to get ready for dinner." She went on. You sprang to life, jumping to get your bag, and scrambled to her side.

"I'm coming. See you tomorrow… Professor." You said, and I stuttered out what miserably didn't sound a thing like 'yes, goodnight'.

As you left I heard Ginny whisper, "Lupin? 'Mione, he's so old!"

"He's not old to me." You replied defiantly, and later that night you came to my rooms to assure me Ginny wouldn't tell a soul.

You kissed away my concerns that night, but now, I wonder when yours began.


	3. 03

_Under Rug Swept_

3.

Since leaving school, you are always there for people – I watch you, as you give an encouraging word here, a comforting arm there, and I see the way you are there for Harry. It is not like Molly, who cooks his favourite meal, or presses his trousers and makes his bed. You are quietly _there_, quietly supportive, not saying a word, and yet saying everything he needs to hear.

Once, it was like that between us. When you give Harry a sleeping draught to stop his nightmares, and brush the hair out of his eyes, I see your face above me, and feel your hands on my brow. The sting of the healing compress on my ribs, and the soothing graze of your lips on my cheekbone.

It had been a bad moon. Once a year, the blue night – blue shadows, blue orb on the horizon. The thirteenth full moon in twelve months, and always the hardest, even with my potion. In the morning, you were there.

"Hold still," you told me in a no-nonsense voice. "You cracked your ribs on the desk." There wasn't much desk left – it had shattered when the wolf hit. The transformation had been exceptionally bad. "I've healed the ribs, but the bruising is… bad." You lifted something steaming from a bowl, and I felt my head spin with the smell – lavender, witch hazel, comfrey and lemon. And the sting as you laid it gently on my skin, wrapping my chest and securing it with a pin showing two glittering letters.

"'Mione," I managed. "Your Head Girl badge…"

"It will be alright." You told me firmly, and then smiled small. You were so beautiful. "You were late for class, you know. Professor McGonagall is covering for you." I groaned, and tried to sit up. My head spun, and you pushed me back. "You're saying in bed." You told me. And then you leaned down and kissed me.

You were so careful, so gentle. We had never done that before, never on the morning after a full moon, and I didn't think my body could possibly react… but as always, you drew responses from somewhere deep in my chest and stomach I never knew I could have, and as we moved together towards blissful release, tears pricked my eyes and I thought my love for you would burst from my body and leave its shell behind.

And afterwards, face, neck and chest mottled pink, you held my head up to help me drink the sleeping potion you brought, and as my eyelids grew heavy, I felt you kiss my cheek, breath still a little quick. I struggled to watch you dress for classes, but before you were out the door, I slept.

My eyes close now as I see you sitting by Harry's side, watching over him while he falls asleep. You don't seem to notice me, but it is always this way now. Hearing Ginny coming up the stairs with a tea tray, I move quickly away from the doorway and up the hall to my own room. As I begin to close the door once I am inside, I hear you say, "Ginny? I thought I heard something…" And I know that you did not realise it was me, and that I must always sneak about without you seeing me, if I am to respect your wishes for silence.


End file.
